Don't Panic
by amourdesoi
Summary: In which a girl attempts to become a hunter and stop the apocolypse. Oh, and let's not forget about halting those developing feelings for an angel that probably wouldn't even notice said feelings if they slapped him in the face. Cas/OC. Begins 4x01.
1. one

A/N: Not much to say, except that I love Supernatural, freakin' _love _Castiel, and that the urge to write a Cas/OC was too great for me to ignore. This would be the first story I've done for SPN, so hopefully it isn't a piece of crap. So... here goes. Also, this begins at 4x01, Lazarus Rising.

In no way, shape, or form do I own Supernatural.

* * *

><p><strong>don't panic<strong>

_chapter one_

"Mr. Singer!"

Bobby let out a long sigh, pouring himself another full glass of whiskey. He raised it to his lips to throw it back, but some of the amber liquid sloshed around in his glass, wetting his beard, when another shrill yell pierced the air of his otherwise quiet house.

"Mr. Siiinger!"

"What?" He grunted, glaring at the face that peered around the corner at him from his kitchen. "What's the problem, you pain in my ass?" As an afterthought, he grumbled out, "And it's _Bobby_. What am I, your damn principal?" Finally, he gulped down the whiskey before fixing an agitated glare at her face.

"Sorry, Bobby," The girl squeaked out, "I-I just thought I should let you know that there isn't any food in the fridge..." She took a timid step out from the kitchen. "Or anywhere, really."

Her name was Nanette Taylor, and she was what Bobby would call an _idjit_.

Bobby had been on a case in Luverne, Minnesota – it was the run of the mill ghoul hunt, nothing special. He had met her when he was investigating the most recent disappearances; her parents. And once all had been said and done, she'd turned to him and said: _"Things l-like that... they're real? And you hunt these things?"_

The same question that survivors who had seen creatures of the supernatural asked, complete with the typical eyes as wide as dinner plates. It was the words after them that had surprised the hell out of him.

"_I want to help you."_

Of course, Bobby had thought this to be a shitty idea; a twenty something, waifish looking girl hunting the things that go bump in the night? Hell, she had been crying her damn eyeballs out during the whole ordeal with the ghouls (not to mention crying on him for a good while after) – he could only imagine how she would react to anything else.

A flat out no should have turned her away, but Bobby had to at least hand it to her that the girl was adamant; annoyingly so, as he found out the next day, when she had appeared on his doorstep with a bottle of whiskey in hand and a determined look on her face. Briefly, he wondered how she'd found him, when he realized he'd given her his name in case she ever ran into anymore trouble. It didn't take a genius to look up an address in the phonebook.

She had shoved the bottle in his face, eyes glinting hopefully at him. _"Whiskey?" _He asked her, still not moving away from the door or inviting her in.

"_No offense, Mr. Singer, but I could smell it on you from a mile away,"_ She said sheepishly. Begrudgingly, he swiped the offered bottle and invited her in to tell her _hell no_ a couple more times, then shoo her off the property with the threat of unloading a few bullets into her.

Nanette simply used the reasoning that he'd saved her life once already, and so it would be a waste of time on his part if he was to off her now; and with that being said, she repeated this process for two weeks straight. At the end of those two weeks, he had let her in once more, and she had not left since. At any questioning of what she could have possibly left behind, she'd shrug and tell him that without her parents, all she had was a waitressing gig at the local diner, and that she had been terrible at it anyway.

He taught her how to use guns, first. She wasn't a half bad shot after a good, long amount of time spent practicing. Bobby had also attempted to teach her some hand-to-hand combat, and he didn't go easy on her in hopes that maybe he would knock the idjit out of her. That never happened, though, albeit much got knocked out of her otherwise. Determination gave her potential, though said potential was buried way, _way_ down.

And as much as he bemoaned her out loud, he didn't mind her presence too much. She was decent when it came to patching up the usual wounds, and was pretty proficient when it came to memorizing the many lores and symbols that would come in handy.

Nan, as she preferred to be called (despite Bobby's remarks that it made her sound like someone's grandma), was sweet - she certainly cooked a hell of a lot better than he ever did, did the laundry - all the things that someone like Bobby Singer didn't have time for. And by _time for_, it was more like _didn't feel like doing_, especially since Dean had died.

That morose thought sobered him up a bit, and he went to pour the last bit of whiskey into his glass. After chugging it down, he glanced at Nanette with eyebrows raised. "What're you looking at me for, girl? Go get some then!" He rolled his eyes at her as she gulped, nodding hurriedly before grabbing her jacket and heading out of the door.

"And don't forget the whiskey!"

* * *

><p>When Nan came back to the house, it was to the sight of Bobby staring disbelievingly at a man with water dripping off of his face.<p>

"Can't be too careful," Bobby told him, a flask of holy water in hand. Finally, they both seemed to notice she was there, blinking at them with her arms filled with bags.

"... Is this a bad time?" She raised a brow, studying the younger man. "Who's this?" Nan asked, as the man asked Bobby the same thing at the same time.

Bobby simply told her, "I hope you got the whiskey, girl."

A while later, she was perched on the worn couch, cupping a glass of whiskey and apple juice in her hand. The man turned out to be Dean Winchester – Bobby had mentioned him to her once while he was in one of his sad, drunken moods one night. One of two brothers that Bobby looked after like they were his own, until two became one and the one hadn't been heard from in months.

Other than that, she didn't know much. Dean was still giving her strange looks, like he couldn't understand what the puny looking girl in front of him was doing there. And to be honest, neither did she, half the time.

Her decision had certainly been rash, but she couldn't quite say she regretted it. There wasn't anything left for her in Luverne, anyway; her parents were gone, leaving nothing but her crappy job as a waitress and a few flaky friends. She had narrowed her decision down to one reason, one cause: the pain she'd felt about what happened to her parents had devastated her.

Nan still cried about it, sometimes, even three months later. But becoming a hunter meant that maybe, just maybe, she could prevent these things happening to other people, and that justification was enough for her. The satisfaction she got out of the few hunting trips she'd been on with Bobby helped her retain her sanity, and the fervent thanks they got never failed to make her feel good.

She took another sip out of her glass, listening to Dean talk about a strange presence he'd felt after he'd been raised from Hell. It was almost funny, how three months ago she would have only heard a conversation like this and take it seriously was if it had been on a TV show. But she'd read too many of the books scattered around Bobby's house and seen enough crazy things in the past few months that she couldn't _not_ believe that unbelievable things like this happened.

A few more words were exchanged, and then Dean took off his jacket and lifted up his sleeve, revealing what looked to be a handprint burned into his skin.

"What the hell?" Bobby stood from the desk he was leaning against and got closer for a better look. She herself leaned further on the couch to see it closer, then decided to just stand after almost falling off.

"Well, that doesn't look painful or anything," Nan chimed in, peeping at it from over the rim of her glass. It was the first thing she had said throughout this whole conversation. She almost felt awkward being here, listening in – but curiousity had always been one of her stronger attributes, for better or worse, and so she had stayed.

Dean had almost forgotten she was there, she'd been so quiet. He glanced at her, sizing her up; she was on the short side, a little too skinny and lacking more than a little bit in the chest area. Long brown hair that fell to about mid-arm's length framed a small face with big hazel eyes, and she wore a plain pair of tan shorts and a black tee shirt.

"Yeah," Dean said, "It's like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out," He shook his head, letting the sleeve fall back in place.

"But why?" Bobby muttered in wonder, looking back to Dean's face.

"To hold up their end of the bargain."

"You think Sam made a deal?" The other brother, if she remembered correctly; she had never met him, but she supposed that he must've loved Dean an awful lot to exchange his soul for his brother to come back.

"It's what I would've done," Dean confirmed grimly.

* * *

><p>She was still marvelling at how well Dean knew his brother. "Wedge Antilles? Really?" She mouthed at Bobby, who simply waved a hand at her with a muttered, "Idjit," under his breath. A minute on the computer, and then it was announced to her that they were leaving for Pontiac, Illinois to find Sam.<p>

"Stay here, and don't do nothing stupid," Bobby warned her.

"S-stay here?" She squawked a bit indignantly. "Can't I go with you?" She pleaded, looking from Bobby's face to Dean's. "An extra hand won't hurt!" She toed the floor innocently. "Besides, even if you don't let me come, that doesn't mean I can't follow you."

"Doesn't mean we can't tie you down til we get back, sister," Dean added, raising a brow at her.

"That would be inhumane! I mean, who knows how long that could be?"

"Panic Room's got food, you'll be fine," Bobby threatened, but she had already shrugged on her black leather bomber and gave them a pointed look, grabbing her tossed aside black lace up boots.

As much as Bobby scared the crap out of her sometimes (especially in one of his moods), she didn't want to be left behind. She didn't want to be treated like a child, either. Bobby and herself had just gone djinn hunting not less than a week ago, so she didn't see why she had to stay behind when she could at least … mostly … take care of herself.

"Well? What are we waiting for?"

* * *

><p>Hours and lots of broken glass later, Bobby, Dean and herself were driving down the highway in Bobby's car as Dean called up his brother. Sam seemed nice enough, other than the initial attempt to carve Dean up in disbelief – not to mention the way he gave her the same weird look his brother had.<p>

It hadn't been Sam that had brought back Dean, though, which made her wonder how many things were out there that she still had yet to find out about. It had to be something incredibly powerful, that was for sure.

She was brought out of her mulling when she heard the elder Winchester talk about summoning whatever was currently harrassing him. "It's time we face it head on," He said, and Bobby gave him an incredulous look.

Nan didn't know Dean all that well, though he appeared to be a good guy. The worse thing the guy had said to her was that she talked too much, but this idea of his didn't exactly sound like the brightest.

"You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack," Dean replied seriously. She leaned forward from the back so that her head was in between the two men, looking from Bobby to the younger man, before settling her gaze on Dean.

"Um, Dean... heart attacks usually have a good chance at _killing people_."

"Nan's right, Dean. We don't even know what it is! It could be a demon. It could be anything."

"That's why we gotta be ready for anything," He shot back, brandishing a knife etched with symbols on the blade. "We got the big time magic knife, you got an arsenal in the trunk. Hell, maybe Nan's chatter can kill 'em."

"Hey! I resent that," She pouted, flopping back into the seat.

"This is a bad idea," Bobby grumbled, shaking his head.

"I couldn't agree more, but what other choice do we have?"

"We could choose life," The older hunter said sarcastically.

"Yeah, life is nice," Nan sighed out, though she already had a feeling that no matter what her or Bobby said, they'd end up calling whatever this thing was to them.

"Whatever this is, whatever it wants, it's after me. That much we know, right?" Without waiting for an answer, Dean continued, "Well, I got no place to hide. I can either get caught with my pants down again-" At that, Nan let out a little snort which went ignored, "Or we can make our stand."

* * *

><p>And standing was all they'd done for what seemed like hours upon hours after marking up what was pretty much the entirety of the inside of the building. Nan paced around impatiently like she had been doing for the past half hour, until Bobby shot her one of his patented glares.<p>

"Sit still, girl. Whatever it is we're waiting for ain't gonna come any quicker 'cause you're moving around."

"Yeah, I know..." She drew herself up to sit on one of the tables, next to Bobby. She couldn't help it. She was impatient. Always had been, and probably always would be. Waiting around here like this didn't mix well with her – she felt like a sitting duck, just waiting for whatever it was to sneak up on them.

Bobby began whistling as Dean fidgeted with the knife before looking up at them. "You sure you did the ritual right?" At Bobby's look, Dean muttered out an apology, and under his breath, "Touchy touchy, huh?" Bobby ignored him, instead giving her an irritated glance as she giggled.

Then, suddenly, thunder boomed out of nowhere around them. They all stood at attention, and she glanced up nervously at the rickety roofing. "Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind," Dean said, but he was still looking around warily.

"It was your thinking that got us here in the first place!" She exclaimed. Behind them, the lights began to blow out. The large doors of the entrance slowly creaked open, and all three held their guns close while wincing at the sparks falling around them.

The lights flashed spastically, giving her a glimpse of the man striding towards them through the open doors. A long, tan trenchcoat seemed carelessly thrown on, along with what looked to be a suit that she got a split second look at. The closer he got, Nan saw that he just looked like a normal man, someone you'd see working a nine to five job and returning to his home in the suburbs after.

Bobby and Dean began to shoot, riddling him with bullets; after a moment of hesitation towards shooting him, she too raised her gun and fired. To her wonder and horror, he did not flinch once, nor did the bullets slow him down at all.

The three of them exchanged befuddled, panicked looks before Dean grabbed the knife from the table. The man in the trenchcoat was now right next to them, and both him and Dean shifted to face each other, though Dean's stance was way more cautious looking than his.

"Who are you?" He demanded, and Nan stared at the man with wide eyes. Up close, his face seemed to have an earnest, innocent quality to it, and eyes that were blue enough that she could tell they matched his tie even in the dark.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," Came the gravelly response. There would be something soothing about it, Nan thought; at least, if they weren't in this predicament of facing someone – or something – that was strong enough to actually haul Dean back up from Hell.

"Yeah, thanks for that," Dean said in a snarky tone while Nan had closed her mouth and wondered what the hell he was. In one fluid motion, the knife plunged down into the other man's body. Again, there were no sounds of pain, or even any movement that indicated any. He simply glanced down at the offending object and slid it out, dropping it to the floor.

From behind him, Nan spied Bobby go for a hit from the back to catch him off guard. It failed to do anything at all, however, since he sensed it coming and gripped the weapon, using it to keep Bobby close. Turning, he raised to fingers to Bobby's forehead, and he sagged down as his eyes rolled towards the back of his head.

"Bobby!" She cried out, rushing forward – but Dean, despite the shocked look on his face, held an arm out in front of her. The man took his eyes off of Bobby to face them again, and he appeared to notice her for the first time. They stared at each other for only a moment, but it felt like it might as well have been an hour. Something about his eyes made her feel incredibly vulnerable, and she couldn't help but shrink back as he looked at Dean.

"We need to talk, Dean," Those blue eyes slid over to her once more. "Alone."

He stepped towards her, and whatever he had done to Bobby she sure as hell didn't want to happen to her – and so, thinking as quickly as she could, she closed her eyes and crumpled down, playing dead – or in this case, unconscious. It seemed to work, because the footsteps stopped; Dean obviously believed it, since he had knelt down at her side and tried shaking her. Nan let her body loll about with the motions so as to be convincing as possible, and heard him stand back up.

A minute later, she heard that deep, rough voice again. "Your friend is alive." She guessed Dean had been checking on Bobby, who was most definitely not faking.

"Who are you?" Dean repeated, and she could hear the distrust oozing out of his voice.

"Castiel." _Castiel. _All she could think was that it was certainly a strange name, but then again, nothing seemed to be normal about the man besides his appearance.

"Yeah, I figured that much," The elder Winchester spit out, "I mean, what are you?"

"I'm an angel of the Lord," Castiel uttered calmly. After hearing that, she almost sat up, or spasmed, or _something_ in response to that, but urged her body to remain still.

A few more beats of tense silence, then, "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."

"This is your problem, Dean," The... _angel_ told him almost patiently, "You have no faith."

A particularly loud bolt of thunder screamed around them, and out of surprise, she instinctively opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Castiel swathed in the light from the bolts, and behind him – behind him was something she would have never believed, had she never have seen it with her own eyes.

Shadowy wings unfurled behind him as the thunder and lightning cracked, their size so great they encompassed the entire wall and a large portion of the ceiling.

Her last thought was, _Holy... Angels really do exist … _before everything went black, and, this time – she actually did faint.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, I hope that wasn't too terribly boring for a first chapter. I also hope Nan doesn't seem like a Mary Sue, and that everyone is in character. Not 100% sure what direction I'm going with this story, but if people like it I'll continue. And, ah, if anyone's curious as to what Nanette looks like, I pretty much picture Mila Kunis (she is fabulous and I love her). A part of me feels like that alone is Mary Sue-ish...

I hope the character interactions aren't shallow; it's only the first chapter, there's plenty of time to deepen that - if people want me to keep writing this, that is.

Please review, I'd love to hear what you think, and if I really should continue or not. :)


	2. two

A/N: Thanks for the encouraging reviews. :) I'm glad people are enjoying it so far... so hopefully I can keep it that way! Sorry if the story seems slow so far, though this chapter does have more Cas - I'm just highly against the whole, "let's have them fall in love within the first five chapters."

This skips from 4x02 to 4x07.

* * *

><p><strong>don't panic<strong>

_chapter two_

"Well, then tell me what else it could have been!"

"Look, all I know is that I was not... _groped_ by an angel."

Nan sighed and began to gnaw on the straw poking out of her lemonade, gazing out of the window from Bobby's couch as the Winchester brothers bickered in the kitchen. She was trying to stay out of this conversation; she knew what she had seen appear in those flashes of light. Still, it did nothing to change Dean's mind about the idea that there really had been an angel in that warehouse.

"Okay, look, Dean. Why do you think this Castiel would lie about it?"

"Maybe he's some kind of demon! Demons lie!" Dean yelled, frustration beginning to creep into his voice.

Nan glanced at Bobby, surprised he hadn't barked at them to shut up. She hopped off of the couch and shuffled into the kitchen, reaching into the fridge and starting to refill her glass. Turning around, she continued chewing on the straw and observing the argument like it was some sort of tennis match.

"A demon who's immune to salt rounds? And devil's traps? And Ruby's knife!" Sam shouted, "Dean, _Lilith _is scared of that thing!"

"Don't you think if angels were real, some hunter – somewhere – would have seen one? At some point, ever!"

"Yeah. You just did, Dean."

Unable to stay quiet any longer, Nan cleared her throat, gaining her the attention of the two brothers. "For the record, I saw-"

"Nan, you don't know what you saw! You passed out, damn it!"

"I _pretended _to pass out! I mean, okay, maybe I _did_ pass out for real... but that was after I saw those wings!" She frowned, almost startled at the clarity with which she could recall that very image. "Wings, Dean. Wings!"

"You see? Even Nan saw it," Sam pointed out as Nan nodded fervently. "I'm sure she didn't imagine it."

"Thanks, Sam," She set her glass down on the counter. "But can't you tell? There was just something... weird about him."

"Weird?" Dean scoffed, "You know what else is weird? Demons. Ghosts. Vampires, werewolves – it doesn't mean anything!"

"I was just-" Dean glared at her, and she lowered her eyes and puffed out her cheeks. "Just... throwing that out there."

"I'm trying to come up with a theory here, okay?" Dean looked back and forth at the two of them, his brow furrowed. "Work with me!"

"Dean, we have a theory!"

"Yeah, one with a little less fairy dust on it, please!"

"Look, I'm not saying we know for sure, I'm just saying-"

"Okay, okay. That's the point. We _don't _know for sure, so I'm not gonna believe that this thing is a freaking angel of the Lord because it says so!"

"You chuckleheads want to keep arguing about religion, or do you want to come take a look at this?" Bobby finally interjected, to Nan's relief. The two brothers rolled their eyes at each other as she went over to Bobby's desk, peering over his shoulder.

"I've got stacks of lore – biblical, pre-biblical – some of it's in damn cuneiform." The picture the page was flipped to had an old drawing of what Nan _used_ to think angels looked like – halo, wings, flowy white garb - grabbing a man with his hands raised towards the angel. "It all says an angel can snatch a soul from the pit." He looked pointedly at Dean.

"And what else?" Clearly, Dean wasn't satisfied with that answer, though his hand lifted to grip the handprint that was burned there as if subconsciously.

"What else what?"

"What else could do it?"

"Airlift your ass out of the hotbox? As far as I can tell, nothing." Bobby sat back in his chair.

"Is it really that difficult to believe angels are real? Demons, ghosts, vampires, werewolves," She listed off with her fingers, trying to throw his earlier statement towards her back at him. "They're all real. Why can't there be _good_ weird things?"

"She's right," Sam said, "Dean, this is good news."

"How?"

"Because, for once, this isn't just another round of demon crap! I mean, maybe you _were_ saved by one of the good guys, you know?"

"Okay. Say it's true, say there are angels – then what, there's a," He raised his eyebrows, "A God?"

"At this point, Vegas money's on yeah," Bobby remarked.

"I don't know, guys," Dean held his hand up, turning to walk away.

"Listen, I'm not exactly a believer either, but stranger things have probably happened! … Probably." Nan shrugged.

"I know you're not all choir boy about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about _faith _and more and more about _proof._"

"Proof?" Dean faced them again, and it seemed to her he was reaching the end of his rope.

"Yes."

"Proof that there's a God out there that actually gives a crap about me personally? I'm sorry," Dean's voice raised even higher, "But I'm not buying it!"

Sam stared at him as if he could will Dean to just believe that, yes, maybe there was. "Why not?"

"Because why me?" Dean looked to all their faces, and for the first time since she had met him, she saw something in his face that made him look both lost and a lot older than he really was. "If there is a God out there, then why would he give a crap about me?"

Sam made a face, but Dean went on. "I mean, I've saved some people, okay? I'm thinking maybe that makes up for the – the stealing, and the ditching chicks – but why do I deserve to get saved? I'm just a regular guy!"

"Apparently," Sam urged, obviously not ready to let this go, "You're a regular guy who's important to the man upstairs."

"Well, that creeps me out. I don't like getting singled out at birthday parties, much less by... _God_."

"Too bad, Dean," The younger Winchester crossed his arms, still giving Dean that look. "Because I think he wants you to strap on your party hat."

"Yeah," Nan sighed, biting her lip. "It could be worse."

Silence reigned over the room for a few moments, then: "Alright. What do we know about angels?"

In response to that, Bobby reached over and grabbed a stack of thick, musty looking books, dropping them in the middle of the desk. They looked as if they contained enough dust to make someone sneeze for a year straight. "Start reading."

"And it just did," She muttered.

"...You're gonna get me some pie," Dean shot at Sam, before they collectively grumbled and each took a book.

* * *

><p>Time went by; time in which Nanette was still as virtually clueless about this Castiel as when she had first seen him. She was curious about him – how could she not be? A real, live angel – though from what Dean had told her, his personality needed some major work.<p>

Even if that was true, she still felt a bit envious that Dean was the only one who had exchanged words with him. Nan thought that she might never meet him, at least not properly, considering she stayed at Bobby's almost all the time. Sam hadn't even seen him, and he and Dean were practically attached at the hip.

And speaking of the Winchesters, she found that she got along alright with them when they did show up at Bobby's. Dean was a bit abrasive and had a big taste for sarcasm, but when he wasn't giving some smart ass reply, she had been able to have a few good talks with him. That is, when he wasn't giving her a noogie or something else thoroughly embarassing.

Sam was nice, too – they could have a laugh (usually at Dean's expense), though she noticed that even when the Winchesters came back, he tended to dip off somewhere at strange times. Of course, she hadn't said anything to him or brought it up. It simply wasn't any of Nan's business, as curious as she was. Then again, this whole angel thing wasn't really her business either, but she had a feeling she'd nose her way into that when the chance arose.

Nan had been so bored recently that she prayed – no pun intended – for something to happen. A wendigo, angry spirit, anything. To pass the time, she would practice shooting, or cook and clean. She was actually in the middle of scrubbing out Bobby's oven with a pair of obnoxious yellow gloves on when Bobby finally snapped.

"Damn it, girl! You're making this place too clean, if there is such a thing!"

Oh, right; she'd also done a little re-organizing around the house, which Bobby didn't really appreciate - at least, when it meant he could barely find anything because she'd put tons of stuff in different, 'Nan-approved' places.

"Sorry, Mr. Singer – er, Bobby." She mostly had calling him by his first name down pat, but sometimes she slipped. Times like these when he was hooting and hollering, she almost felt like he _was _a principal. "I've just been bored! You won't let me go out for jobs on my own, and I don't have much else to do, and you've been researching stuff for the guys for a while now. If I read anymore of your books, the dust is gonna crawl inside my system and take over and-"

"Alright already," Bobby grumbled out, shocking her out of her rambling. "The boys are on their way to visit. I'll get them to take you out on a job with them," He swiped a hand across his nose and adjusted his cap before stomping out of the room. "Making me feel tired just lookin' at you."

Nan stared before letting out a whoop and excitedly taking off the gloves, starting to rummage through the cabinets for something to make for dinner. To sweeten the deal, so they say – until Bobby yelled again from his desk.

"And stop cooking! We're ordering a damn pizza!"

* * *

><p>To be honest, she didn't really think they would let her come with them. Then again, Bobby had a ... <em>certain<em> way of making people do what he said; and with the forewarning that they were hunters, not bodyguards, they had set off. The job they were working involved a man choking to death on razorblades, and the brothers had found a hexbag at the scene of the crime. Unfortunately, she didn't have any fake IDs, and Dean wouldn't let her touch the Impala, so she stayed behind at the motel room.

Currently, Nan and Sam were researching while Dean was asking around about Luke Wallace – well, Sam was examining the contents of the hex bag while she was flipping through a Good Housekeeping magazine she'd gotten at the corner store nearby – when Dean strolled in.

"Really?" Sam chuckled disbelievingly at the sight of his brother's chipmunk cheeks, "After that guy choked down all those razor blades?" He asked, raising an incredulous brow at Dean.

"You're crazy," Nan agreed, intently studying a recipe for tiramisu cupcakes.

"It's Halloween, man," Dean said, then looked at her reading material and snorted. "And I'm crazy? Says the girl that's dying to go hunt supernatural creatures and be a housewife at the same time. _That's _crazy."

"You won't be saying that when I make this one pie recipe I saw," She sulked, though Dean shut his mouth about it.

"For us, every day is Halloween." Sam said as Dean tossed the candy wrapper to the side and took a seat on the arm of the couch he was sitting on.

"Don't be a downer. Anything interesting?"

"Well, we're on a witch hunt, that's for sure," Sam began, and Nan put the magazine down and walked over to sit on the other arm. "But this isn't your typical hex bag."

"What makes it so different?" She asked, looking closely at the items spread out on the tiny square of cloth.

"Goldthread. An herb that's been extinct for two hundred years," Sam explained, picking it up. Putting that down, he reached for something that looked like an old coin. "This is Celtic, and I don't mean some new-age knock off. Looks like the real deal – like 'six hundred years old' deal."

Dean was sniffing at something tiny and black, when Sam noticed. "And that is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby."

Both her and Dean made disgruntled faces, and he set it down. "Oh, gross."

"Relax, man. It's at least a hundred years old," Sam replied, picking up the bone.

"That's still pretty disgusting," Nan agreed, wrinkling her nose at it.

"Witches, man," Dean shivered, "They're so freakin' skeevy."

"Yeah, well, it takes a powerful one to put a bag like this together. More juice than we've ever dealt with, that's for sure. What about you? Find anything on the victim?"

"This Luke Wallace?" The older man smirked, "He was so vanilla that he made _vanilla_ look spicy." The smirk faded. "I can't find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead."

"I've never gone on a job like this with Bobby," Nan said, standing and giving the hex bag one last look before starting to pace around the room anxiously.

"Well, sister, looks like you'll be getting a front row seat to get this one."

The night before Halloween, there'd been another death. A high school girl had drowned in a tub of boiling water while bobbing for apples. The girl's friend, Tracy Davis, said she didn't know how it had happened – and she didn't know Luke Wallace, either. Another hex bag had been found, too, and with some more research, Sam had put out the theory that the deaths had nothing to do with a grudge at all.

His guess was a spell, with the description of "three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest." It was to summon Samhain on Halloween – today. If that happened, Samhain would be able to raise up everything else unpleasant from Hell (which was pretty much everything). The only thing that could happen following that would be a massacre, she thought with a shiver.

The brothers were at the high school to look into Tracy, and so she had been left behind ... yet again. This hadn't been her exact idea of relieving her boredom; in fact, she felt pretty damn useless. She sighed and turned on her side, shutting off the television and nestling her head into the pillow. Maybe she'd just doze off for a little bit – there wasn't much else to do at this point but wait.

And she did manage to doze off; it was still light out when she awoke, so she couldn't have been sleeping that long. Letting out a yawn, she wiped the drool off of her face and rolled over to face the other side of the room – and let out a shriek when she saw two men standing there, staring at her.

"Holy shit!"

She placed a hand over her racing heart, skittering up from her position to sit far up against the headboard. Once the sleep faded a bit out of shock, she rubbed her eyes and realized it was Castiel – who the other man was, she had no idea.

"Um … uh …" She mumbled ever so eloquently before squeaking out, "Hi?"

"Hello," His deep voice greeted her back, and his companion shot her a dirty look.

"Y-you're... Castiel, r-right?" Those penetrating blue eyes of his continued to stare into hers, and she suddenly felt very naked despite the fact she was in her shorts and tee shirt.

"Yes." He observed her scrunched up position on the bed, where she had begun to clutch at a pillow without even realizing it. "Do not be frightened."

Her grip on the pillow relaxed, though she shot a wary look at the other man. Oh, who was she kidding; this was her chance – her chance to finally talk to the angel, something her mind had been consumed with ever since that one night. She gulped down her fear before getting up from the bed and straightening out her clothes, gingerly standing before him.

"Dean's out right now with Sam... they should be back soon," She offered. Up close and in proper lighting, she tried to study his face as nonchalantly as possible. He really did look like an ordinary man – complete with stubble and tired looking bags under his eyes, chapped lips - though the blueness of his irises were really nothing like she had ever seen before.

"I am aware," Castiel said. "We will wait."

"Oh, o-okay," She stuttered out, then internally yelled at herself for it. To make up for it, she thrust her hand out in front of him, but even that motion was too awkward and jerky for her liking. "Nanette Taylor."

He looked down at her hand, his head cocking slightly to the side before looking back up at her. Feeling a little bit bolder now that she was right in front of him, she impatiently grabbed his hand and shook it. "Nanette Taylor," She tried again, "It's nice to meet you! I mean ... just ... wow!"

She was looking at him with wonder in her eyes, so much that Castiel thought the right thing to say was to return the sentiment. "It is … nice to meet you, as well, though we have already met before. You are working with the Winchesters?"

"Well, ah, sort of. You see, I was really bored back at Bobby's, and … and … oh, I just can't believe you're actually here! This is really exciting, you know?" She gushed, her other hand coming to lay on top of their joined ones, still rapidly shaking his. "I mean, Dean told me a little bit about you, but-"

"Castiel," The larger man (though at this point, she figured he was probably an angel as well) cut in, giving her another look before turning to Castiel, "They are here."

Nanette dropped her hands just as Sam opened the door, and, seeing Castiel, immediately took his gun out of his jacket and aimed. "Who are you!" He shouted, just as Dean appeared at his side and caught sight of the angel.

"Sam! Sam, wait! It's Castiel," Dean put a hand on Sam's gun to lower it, "The angel." He saw the dark-skinned angel by the window, saying suspiciously, "Him, I don't know."

Sam turned to Castiel, a look of awe crossing his features as the angel approached him. "Hello, Sam."

"Oh, my God," Sam breathed out, then, "Er, uh, I didn't mean to – sorry," He stepped forward, "It's an honor. Really, I-I've heard a lot about you," He then stuck his hand out to shake the angel's.

There was only a small moment of hesitation before Castiel took his hand. "And I, you. Sam Winchester," He glanced at their hands, then at her; as if recalling when Nan shook his hand earlier, he had laid a hand on top of their hands. "The boy with the demon blood."

Demon blood? Sam? Nan didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but did not voice this and focused again on the conversation, though she promised herself she would ask about it at some point.

Castiel continued, "Glad to hear you've … ceased your extracurricular activities."

"Let's keep it that way," The man by the window added. His voice was extremely deep as well, but there was a tone to it that seemed ominous.

"Yeah, okay, chuckles," Dean threw back, and Nan was suddenly glad for Dean and his sarcasm, seeing as it made her feel a little less uncomfortable. "Who's your friend?" He directed at Castiel.

Castiel, for his part, ignored him. "This raising of Samhain – have you stopped it?"

"Why?" Dean asked, his eyes narrowing a bit.

"Dean, have you located the witch?"

"Yes, we've located the witch."

"And is the witch dead?" Castiel asked, and if she wasn't mistaken, there was urgency in his tone.

"No, but -" Sam spoke up, but Dean interrupted him.

"We know who it is."

"Apparently, the witch knows who you are, too." Castiel strode over to the bedside table, picking up a hex bag. She wondered when they had found it, and realized it had probably been when she was asleep.

"This was inside the walls of your room. If we hadn't found it, surely one, or two -" His eyes roamed over Nan as well, "Or all of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?"

Nan glanced over at the brothers as they both looked at each other. "We're... working on it."

"That's unfortunate," Castiel said, now looking at none of them.

"What do you care?" Dean asked roughly, and Castiel looked towards the man by the window.

"The raising of Samhain is one of the sixty six seals." He said, and Nan furrowed her brows.

"So, this is about your buddy Lucifer," Dean said a bit snarkily.

Sixty six seals? Lucifer? Bobby had said that the whole 'witness' situation a couple weeks ago was something that foretold the coming of the apocolypse, but... _Lucifer? _She glanced at the Winchesters but neither were paying attention to her or seemed too keen on explaining anything to her right then and there. There was obviously some information that, Nan, as somewhat of an outsider, was not privvy to.

"Lucifer is no friend of ours," Baldy (as Nan had taken to mentally labelling him) said, still staring out of the window. That was starting to annoy her – it was as if they were lesser creatures that weren't even worth looking at.

Dean gave him a strange look. "It's just an expression."

"Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs."

"Okay, great," Dean stared at Castiel, then to Baldy, "Well, now that you're here, why don't you tell us where the witch is? We'll gank her, and then everybody goes home."

"We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful. She's cloaked, even to our methods."

"Okay, well," Sam replied, "We already know who she is. So, if we work together-"

"Enough of this." Baldy finally moved forward from the window, his eyes skimming over Nan and the brothers like they were rodents.

"Who are you, and why should I care?" Dean finally yelled out, saying out loud her own thoughts.

"This is Uriel. He's what you might call..." A strange expression flit over Castiel's face, but it was gone just as quick as it had appeared. "... a specialist."

"What kind of a specialist?" Dean asked.

Uriel did not answer him; instead, he looked towards Castiel, who wouldn't look at any of them. It couldn't be anything bad – at least, she hoped. They were angels, for crying out loud. But as Nan looked at Uriel's cold face and Castiel's slightly unsure one, she realized it might just be.

"What are you gonna do?" Dean asked, suspicion already rising in his voice.

"You... all of you need to leave this town immediately." Castiel said, looking each of them in the eye.

"Why?"

"Because we're about to destroy it." Castiel responded; Nan's mouth fell open at his statement.

Silence permeated the room for a good twenty seconds before she broke it. "D-destroy the town?" She sputtered, "But you can't do that! There's so many people that don't have anything to do with ... anything!"

Uriel turned towards her, looking down his nose as those cool black eyes stared down at her. "Yes, we can. We will do what we must to prevent this seal from being broken."

"You're gonna smite the whole fucking town?" Dean reiterated, looking at both of the angels.

Castiel frowned slightly. "We're out of time. This witch has to die. The seal must be saved."

"There are a thousand people here!" Sam cried out, desperate.

Uriel looked a bit smug with his next words. "One thousand, two hundred and fourteen."

"And you're willing to kill them all?"

"This isn't the first time I've ... purified a city." Uriel stated, and Nan wished she could do something – anything to stop them from wiping the town off of the face of the Earth. Maybe slap Uriel in the face, for one.

"Look, I understand this is regrettable." Castiel began, and Nan frowned.

"Regrettable?" Dean mocked him, eyebrow raised so high it might as well have been in his hair.

Nan shook her head in denial. "This has to be... more than _regrettable_ to you! These people, they're – they're God's children, too, aren't they?"

Castiel looked at her. "We have to hold the line. Too many seals have been broken already."

"So you screwed the pooch on some seals, and now the whole town has to pay the price?" There they went again with the whole 'seal' thing – yes, she was definitely going to demand some information.

"It's the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion. There's a bigger picture here." Castiel argued. Nan could almost see the logic in his statement – at least, she would be able to if she was an emotionless robot.

"Right. 'Cause, uh, you're _bigger picture_ kind of guys."

"Lucifer cannot rise. He does, and Hell rises with him. Is that something that you're willing to risk?"

"We'll stop this witch before she summons anyone. Your seal won't be broken, and no one has to die!" Sam plead, his eyes searching theirs.

"We're wasting time with these mud-monkeys." Uriel practically curled his lip at them, and Nan straightened a bit.

"M-mud monkeys? _Really_?" She deadpanned, placing a hand on her hip and getting a glare from Uriel in return. Well, this whole conversation with angels was quickly turning around her previous opinion of them; now, she couldn't see why she had been so excited to meet one in the first place.

"I'm sorry, but we have our orders." There was an edge of finality to Castiel's words; however, she noticed that he seemed a hell of a lot more reluctant about their orders than Uriel did.

"No. you can't do this! You-you're angels! I mean, aren't you supposed to-" Uriel chuckled at Sam's words, "You're supposed to show mercy!"

"Says who?" Uriel belittled him, and Sam clenched his fist.

"We have no choice." It seemed that was all they could say for themselves, Nan thought despairingly – if they truly felt that way, was there really no way to stop them?

"Of course you have a choice." Dean stared Castiel straight in the eye, clearly intent on making whatever point he was about to say. "I mean, come on. What, you've never – never questioned a crap order? Huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?"

"Look, even if you can't understand it … have faith. The plan is just." Castiel tried to reason.

"How can you even say that?" Nan had the feeling Sam's thoughts on angels were swiftly becoming more and more like hers.

"Because it comes from Heaven. That makes it just." Castiel replied, then looked over at her when she stepped forward.

"I know God's the head honcho up there, but ... you can't think this is okay!" She flailed her arm around, hoping to make a point; at the very least, some reassurance that they really weren't so cruel. "Can you?" All Castiel did was look away from her.

"It must be nice to be so sure of yourselves." Dean said sarcastically, shaking his head.

"Tell me something, Dean." Castiel looked at the oldest Winchester. "When your father gave you an order, didn't you obey?"

Nan looked at Dean. She had no idea what kind of relationship the guys had with their father, but she assumed since Castiel was an angel, he had probably hit the nail on the head. He was quiet, as if thinking, then: "Sorry, boys. Looks like the plans have changed."

"You think you can stop us?" Uriel asked with a snort.

"No." Dean took a step towards Uriel. "But if you're gonna smite the whole town, then you're gonna have to smite us with it, because we are not leaving. You went to the trouble of busting me out of Hell, I figure I'm worth something to the man upstairs." Well, if there was one thing Nan admired Dean for, it was his bravery. "You want to waste me? Go ahead. See how he digs that."

"I will drag you out of here myself." Uriel snarled lowly.

"Yeah, but you'll have to kill me. Then we're back to the same problem. I mean, come on. You're gonna wipe out a whole town just for one little witch? Sounds to me like you're compensating for something. We can do this. We can find that witch. We will stop the summoning."

"Castiel!" Uriel roared, pointing a finger at all of them, "I will not let these-"

"Enough." Castiel held up a hand, effectively silencing Uriel. "I suggest you move quickly."

Nan and the boys looked at each other, and when they looked back, the angels were gone. She sighed, jabbed each of them in the chest, then crossed her arms. "You guys have some explaining to do."

* * *

><p>"<em>Astronaut<em>!"

Nan sighed, mulling over everything they'd explained to her as she sat in the backseat of the Impala. She'd demanded to know everything from the angels to Lucifer to the seals – and with a good amount of badgering, about the demon blood, too. It was all crazy, and hard to believe; but the only thing she could do was exactly that. Obviously, they weren't lying, and the angels hadn't been joking in the least.

She was brought out of her thoughts as Sam slid into the front seat, and Nan could see a troubled expression on his face in the side mirror. "Sam? What's wrong?" Nan asked, sliding to the middle of the backseat to look him in the eye. Dean got in right after, slamming the door behind him.

"Nothing. I thought they'd be … different."

"Who, the angels?"

"Yeah."

"You and me both, Sam," Nan frowned. "I didn't think they'd be like that at all."

"I thought they'd be righteous," He muttered.

"Well, they are righteous. That's kind of the problem. There's nothing more dangerous than some asshole who thinks he's on a holy mission." Dean added in.

"But, Dean... they _are_ on a holy mission," Nan sighed, slumping back down in the seat. "That makes it even worse."

Nan still couldn't shake the feeling, however, that Castiel was more against the idea than he seemed – then again, perhaps it was just wishful thinking. Maybe she just wanted to believe that they weren't like that, despite the conversation they'd just had with them that proved otherwise.

"So, this is God and Heaven – this is what I've been praying to?" Sam swallowed, so very obviously disheartened at the thought that God really wasn't merciful at all.

"I know you're on the whole God thing, and Jesus on a tortilla and stuff like that, but just because there's a couple of bad apples doesn't mean the whole barrel's rotten. For all we know, God hates these jerks."

"Dean's right, Sam. I mean, that Uriel called us mud-monkeys, for crying out loud! I'm sure God wouldn't be happy hearing about his... uh, _creations_ being called that."

She wasn't too religious, and never really had been; she'd always believed in some sort of higher power, but to even say that was pushing it. But since angels were obviously real, God had to be to. And if _God _was real, then that meant that he really had created them, right?

Still, Sam had a downtrodden look on his face that neither of them could erase, and Dean tried to smile for him. "Don't give up on the stuff, is all I'm saying. Babe Ruth was a dick, but baseball's still a beautiful game."

A sort of sad quiet covered the car. "Are you gonna figure out a way to find this witch, or are you gonna sit there fingering your bone?"

Nan couldn't help but giggle at that, and she reached up and clapped his shoulder reassuringly with a smile. "Don't worry, Sam. We'll find the witch, beat the crap outta her, and then there will be no smiting of towns or anything!"

She settled down into the seat once more as they began talking about the bone in the hex bag, drowning them out with her own thoughts. And when they pulled out of the motel parking lot, she prayed to God (since, well, he was apparently out there) that her words to Sam wouldn't be just an empty reassurance.

* * *

><p>AN: Hope this chapter was enjoyable, and that Nan still doesn't seem like a Mary Sue. Also, some reassurance I'm keeping everyone else in character would be lovely too. :)

Please review and let me know what you think, I love hearing everyone's opinions. Thanks for reading!


End file.
